The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

This is the start of my AAR.

Aran Map. I will post scales and opponents as I progress. But be welcome to the birth of my god....Hope you all enjoy.

Spiro.


The Dark Oracle

<font color="purple">The God </font>
How long I have been I cannot say, there was a time, once, perhaps an aeon ago that my purpose was to see things, the past, the future or man’s desire. What little I know of my history is faded and thin but I shall relate it none the less for if I am to accomplish what I seek, the halls of eternity will echo with my tale.

I was nothing but formless void an essence that knew only one thing, the undeniable existence of myself. As the dreams of the world began to flow like soothing water from the minds of the primitive creatures I became aware of new things, lands, trees, people and I was drawn from my strange place into the world. My first memory of this new dream was of clarity, of water and so I flowed from the dream into the world as a stream. I sensed the order of this plane and my form saw many things, I saw a power risen in the heavens, divine, all knowing and all seeing and the world was a pleasing place in its benign embrace and I saw my people, those who had dreamed of me.

Stunted and hunched they lived in small tribes a simple existence as they strove to drag themselves up from the primitive bog of evolution, but I was fascinated it was pleasing to be near them and so I drew them to my cave and cleansed their ills in my waters and offered knowledge that slipped into their minds like the dreams they had slipped into mine. And so the tribes began to become more than just villages and I dreamed of a nation, that would come, in time, but inevitable. As the tribes of Mictlan grew, for that was their chosen name. As their skills of artifice grew I was gifted with form as an honour for providing the land with prophecy and a clever man, for that is also what they were, carved for me a pleasing shape, a beautiful fountain to gather my waters in artful pools and allow me to playfully dance from statues of the young girls who had become accustomed to attend me.

As the tribes grew so did tradition and each person who was granted respite in my waters from mortal death once passed on from natural means their blood as an offering of water was given back to me and their remains dried, dressed and prepared for what lay after for I could see beyond the veil of death and so the tribes learnt of it also. As the empire grew so did the kings thirst for knowledge and as their demands for knowledge grew they began to unwillingly take blood to gift to me to power the omens which I used to prophecies the fate of the nation, but one cannot hold the fate of ones own spirit and so I was blind to what must come.

Their desires became as frenzied as the knives that brought me blood and none were more gifted in the slaying of innocence than Mictlipocti, Oh what honour he did me, I know not at which point my waters changed, I can only surmise that his unholy gluttony for death affected me till I spewed forth the spurting blood of innocents, few could approach me now for I howled in mimicry the agonised screams of those fed to me in an unending scream, my sight saw nothing more than pristine souls and where to find them, my form slippery with gore and no longer pleasing to the eye, I blinded my attendant lest her sweet innocence fail in my abysmal presence, she would know my crimson depths in time but virgin blood was more potent.

My own gluttony and preoccupation afforded me little foresight now and as time passed so did my allies, Mictipocti was gone and his successor had a different vision, allied with the divine powers of the world my cult was routed out and fed to me in punishment I barely noticed till the Last was bled and my ancient place high in the mountains was sealed closed, forever to contain my diabolic misery. A time of Law had come.

I know not how long I lay dormant, insane, dreaming terrible dreams locked within my prison. I felt disaster strike the land, nations I was sure rose and fell, and then it came to pass, the one true power was gone, his force of law lifted, no longer would the sinful of the world have to fear and surely there were none more wicked now than I ?

I called out to my people in cajoling dreams of sweet temptation, the empire surely needed a power to support it, it would not survive without aid, my will MUST be done. How long I whispered till I was heard I know not, but the dank air in my cavern began to stir and the congealed and rotten depths of my being sensed the approach of sweet innocence, INNOCENCE !!, bubbles sprung forth in slavering hunger from my pools.

I watched in hungry silence as the intruders approached my inner chamber, I could here their names as their own souls and minds involuntarily spoke to me, Tanacatecuhtli, a priest, a dabbler in blood, it was he who had scoured the histories looking for mention of me and my secret place as I tormented his nightly sleep with promises of power. Xolotl was the tribal lord he had persuaded to support him, a long journey they had undertaken to unleash my desire on the world, and yes, they had come prepared, A wooden cage held three captives, virgin blood, searched out by the priest under my direction.

Tanacatecuhtli drew close and opened a dried and ancient tome, motioning to Xolotl to bring one of the young girls forth. Xolotl looked nervous, I could smell his fear, it excited me and I could not help but issue a thin eerie wail as I waited for the inevitable. Gingerly he pushed the bewildered and naked creature towards Tanacatecuhtli who grasped her wrist with his bony hand. Eye’s darting over the tome he began to utter malign words, not spoken for centuries, ceremonial callings to me to accept a new mouth. He had done well, deeply buried in ancient tombs were those magic’s, I had chosen him well. I let my essence awaken, seeping upward from the sluggish deeps I opened my arms to become one with a new Bloodspeaker.

<font color="purple"> Tanacatecuhtli, The Mictlan Priest </font>
Tanacatecuhtli finished the incantation, the Last months flashing through his mind like the Last moments of his life, he knew that if he made even a single mistake it would be just that, the spell had stretched the limit of his skill, he was not truly enough of a blood adept to be comfortable in casting this but the voice had promised its assistance and more should he succeed. The Last months had passed like a blur, a half waking, half sleeping dream, his body and mind spent to the point that he didn’t truly know if this was all some dread illusion and he would wake in a moment with a Moon priest and at his door with a writ of heresy for him. But the voice had driven him on, fearing his nightmares more than the priesthood elders. He had sneaked around the temples, gathering information and studying old lore with a fever that was almost born of disease, he lost weight, his eyes gaunt and cheeks sunken with the knowledge he was taking in.

What he discovered threatened to steal his sanity, an ancient oracle that had shepherded his primal forefathers prior to the great empire of Mictlan being born, tainted and corrupted by the ancient Kings who birthed the dark priesthoods who’s practice was outlawed but who had returned in the decades since the cataclysm and the loss of the one. Quetzalcoatl the ancient king renowned for his destruction of the blood cults had sought out all those who practiced the arts of blood and fed them to their own oracle and at the Last sealed this ancient horror in the depths of its lair and eradicated as much of its lore from history as was possible to prevent its remergeance.

The voice had whispered that he would not find his answers in the rediscovered tomes that the new blood cults had taken, the Lawgiver had scourged the oracles rituals from that lore, he must look at the ancient halls of records and burials. Initially he had despaired as the old hall of records had succumbed to an earthquake in the cataclysm and only a fraction of the records now remained the rest sealed in dark caverns where the halls had fallen and since been built over. He had needed money and influence neither of which he possessed. Then his chance came, a Tribal leader who was renowned for his battle prowess and cruel vigour with which he brought slaves to the block had fallen foul of church machinations, his lands seized and titles lost. Tanacatecuhtli approached him and with sly words tempted him with promises of power and revenge if only he would assemble a band of his staunchest warriors and accompany him into the cavernous depths below the city.

Xolotl agreed, he was angry and his blood ran hot and so they had ventured into the old undercity to face what lay beneath. The journey had been surprisingly easy, longdead and ghouls easily despatched by Xolotl’s men and the banishment rites he had learned during his tenure in the priesthood. Recovering the records he needed he had discovered in the inventories of a minor priest interred some centuries before an ark, containing a book. This had to be it, returning to the city under cover of night Tanacatecuhtli had slipped into the catacombs following the directions of the manifest he had aquired. The tomb was a plain affair, single stone sarcophagus which he enlisted Xolotl’s brawn to draw from its resting place. Pausing only to check for potential interference they had opened the lid.

Tanacatecuhtli had been puzzled by the appearance of the inhabitant, it did not look like a minor priest, its burial mask far more elaborate than would have been appropriate, but that was a riddle for another day, laying at the foot of the mummy was a small gold ark, its crystal lid still clear and laying inside a black tome. Quickly placing the ark in a sack their thievery done, they sealed the lid and pushed the coffin back into its place.

Returning to my chambers I had begun to study the ancient book, it spoke of rites and rituals needed to bind bloodslaves to a dark oracle and ceremonies and auspices that were required to ensure its power was maintained, I was aghast, the enormous supply of blood needed by this devouring beast was monstrous even by the bloody rites of the current priesthood, how it had maintained such a supply in the much smaller hamlets that it must have attended prior to the great empire that it slept through. After all any sanguine douser knew that a large population was needed to get a good supply of virgin vitae, the country bumpkins were far too keen on deflowering their misbegotten daughters as soon as possible in an effort to gain land or status. Large cities and bloated populous left the fading flowers of beauty intact, with a thousand other sinful distractions rather than the carnal. Ah ! but here was the key, the spirit hunted them out itself, telling its adherents where to seek for the viscous fluid it needed.

I knew now what I must do and planned to contact Xolotl at first light to make the relevant arrangements in the meantime I would sleep and see if this voice would send me the omens of where to find what it needed for its reawakening, three daughters, one of thirteen years of age born under a baleful star and the others twins, to be sacrificed once the binding was performed, I wasn’t sure I had the might to perform this, it was beyond my training, but I had no choice now, my nightmares beckoned me and I was lost unless I could succeed.

That night I slept fitfully, my dreams taunting me with their silken clarity, so close and tantalizingly vivid yet out just out of reach. I awoke drenched with sweat and called for a slave to bring me a dose of tomb lotus. I needed to dream and despite its prohibitive cost I knew I was close to my goal. I prepared the censors, cleansed myself with scented oils and placed the valuable dust onto the small coals I had heated while the slave was away. The dreams came upon me like a tenebrous tidal wave of unimaginable horror, tearing at my already strained sanity, I saw places, things, past, present, I awoke with a start, my sheets stained with sweat and blood, every orifice on my body having seemingly issued it, but I also had the knowledge I needed, clutching my naked body in cramped pain, I called for water to clean myself and sent a message to Xolotl to prepare his troop.

We travelled for many days to the villages where the young girls were secreted away, I had doused for many virgins and so knew the extent to which their families would go, even attempting to violate their own sisters and daughters rather than see them bled on the altars. The twins were a simple matter, the only hitch when a crippled elder flailed at the guards who were securing the girls, only to have Xolotl deliver a crushing blow to the old mans face with the pommel of his Obsidian blade. A days travel and we approached the our Last destination, I was feeling weak and drained as we arrived, a single black raven sat upon the gate post as we approached, brazenly squawking and dodging a small stone thrown by a soldier only to return to its vigil, an omen surely. I looked upwards and for a moment, the clouds shifted and I saw a dark light illuminated in my mind, the baleful star, it must be !!

We cautiously approached the homestead only to discover a girl sat waiting upon the wooden steps leading to the small farmhouse. She was small, with soft black hair, held back from her eyes with a band of folded cloth, but her eyes, were most striking, no pupils, only blackness, a void, I felt myself teetering on the edge of an abyss, the farm and soldiers around me momentarily vanished, then it was gone, I nodded at a soldier nearby and he approached the girl and placed his hand upon her shoulder, I saw the wince on her face before the rough fingers of the soldier had even touched her and felt the surging curse that ran up his arm and dropped him to the floor in pain, the baleful star indeed, he would not survive his next battle of that I felt sure. She came without a struggle, the weeping cries from within the farmhouse the only sound as we silently left, I felt a pit in my stomach all the way to the nine hells.

The rest of the journey went without incident although I could see the portents around us as we climbed the mountain by following a dried and scorched river up to the lower plateau. The river ended abruptly in a wall of ancient rubble, we had arrived, I felt sure of it. Xolotl and his men began to unload picks and tools and under my direction remove the stones. There was no joy in this work, the atmosphere one of oppression tinged with an almost deafening silence for no wildlife howled or barked its presence here. Clearing the rubble took a full three days and fatefully the soldier who had first laid hand upon the speaker was killed by a falling rock from the excavation, his brains rudely dashed out, the men were uneasy but fear of Xolotl kept them working and in check. It was mid morning when I got word that a passage had been uncovered, I hastily prepared myself in my tent and grabbing the tome hurried to the gathered crowd at the tunnel mouth. Xolotl nodded grimly, he was dust covered as he had ventured slightly in to ensure this was the place, I ordered the girls to be brought in their cage.

The walk into the darkness was tense and fear laden, only myself, Xolotl and four men to pull the small cart the cage was upon entered, the tunnel was large, its small opening belaying its actual size, the darkness seemingly swallowing our footsteps whole, only our breathing and the creak of the cart even penetrating our sense’s. There was something on the air also, I couldn’t tell what, I had smelt blood before, many many times, but this was different, an almost deeper timbre to it, though I know that is nonsensical, I could think of no other way to describe it. There were many other details which I barely took notice of, as I could feel something up ahead. Even in my darkest nightmares I could scare conceive what faced us when we stood at the entrance to what was obviously the heart of the cave.

At the centre of the circular chamber was an immense edifice, a fountain, but far larger than those even in glorious Mictlan, its black stone crusted with unnameable substances and its inky depths seemingly unmoving yet at the same time giving the impression of some deep turmoil. Clawing from the centre of the circular and darkened pool was a column standing as tall as two full grown men, each side an elegantly carved statue of a woman, arms folded across their breasts and head bowed, the pinnacle of the fountain a crown of cruel spikes. As beautiful in graven majesty the women were I could not look directly at their faces without feeling a wave of grotesque horror swell from my bowels. The soldiers were muttering in fear, but my time had come, clutching the black tome I stepped forward and motioned for the girl to be brought to me, Xolotl looking ashen faced nodded at his men who herded the winsome creature. Xolotl pushed her, enveloping the chamber an unearthly wail could be heard, imperceptible and yet terrifyingly real, it conveyed one emotion, hunger. Xolotl gritted his teeth and prodded the girl forward, I steeled myself opened the tome and grasped the girls wrist and began to slowly read the unutterable words contained within.

I continued the incantation aware of every fibre of my being, I could see dark red lights sparkling into life deep in the red velvet depths of the fountains pool, moving with a vitality of their own, some dark force rising and then the nearest statue looked up and uncrossed it arms, my words faltered so strong was my terror, but what could I do but continue for I feared unless I was successful I would never leave this chamber again and so I came to the final verse. Almost invisible, I could see a slender stone leading to the central column, the girl, as if sensing the call moaned and slowly walked forward to embrace her fate, the two twins were near hysterical and were being held down by Xolotl’s men, of the tribal warrior himself, I could see only his bowed head and hear his sobbing voice whispering insane denials at what we were witnessing.

Clambering onto the lip of the fountain the girl stood for but a moment and looked briefly over her shoulder at me as I stood, frozen in a mixture of macabre fascination and abject despair, her eyes were no longer black, in each the light of the baleful star she was born under shone with demonic light, sadness so eternally deep washed over me that I fell to my knees, able only to clutch my fevered brow and feel my body wrack with sobs. Slowly walking forward the each of the other statues raised it’s head and screamed an ethereal howl so filled with hellish bliss I sensed the men behind me hitting the ground, I knew not if they were dead, their souls simply torn away in the maelstrom of the oracle or unconscious out of sheer panic. As the girl took her Last steps, I could see the statue lift her in its arms and tenderly take her into a lovers embrace. The pools were now boiling, they Oily scum covered blackness gone, a devlish heat boiling the contents to a frothing and crimson swill. The howling had reached its loudest pitch and then suddenly, Silence.

The girl was no longer gripped by the statue, instead she stood at the foot of the fountain. I tried to speak, but could not muster the will to take breath, instead I inhaled and found myself involuntarily holding my breath, awaiting what would come next. Her eyes were swirling blackness, the evil star united with a greater spirit. Her mouth opened and remained open, but no words issued, instead the room echoed with the dread words.

“I am Zum-Zuaal, Eater of Children, God of the Obsidian Blade and Jaguar King” the cavernous voice echoed round the chamber, its force refusing to fade.

Regaining my composure “I-I-I am Tana…” I began, but the voice boomed

“I know who you are Tanacatecuhtli, Blood priest, you have served my will well, I have tasted your dreams.”, I nodded briefly, awed.

“But we have more still to accomplish” the voice was calmer, “But first, I have not tasted innocence in centuries, I demand blood and your reward shall be the first to feed me, Tanacatecuhtli” The voice wavered, I could sense its hunger and impatience.

Getting to my feet I surveyed my surroundings, Xolotl was weeping on the floor, his soldiers, dead or gone, the two remaining girls, hanging limply from their ropes in the cage. Quickly I gathered myself and moved to the wooden prison, letting the door swing loose, I drew my blade and cut the first girls free and dragged her into my arms, my strength had long since been drained and now only a will to live and serve this power drove me. Her feet leaving channels in the dust I dragged her to the feet of the fountain, and stood panting. Now I was closer I could see at each cardinal point of the Stone lip and indentation much like those I saw countless times on the sacrificial alters In Mictlan. Struggling her into place her head lolled back into the dip and I straddled her prostrate form, her slight breast’s heaving in anticipation of oblivion. Tears running down my face I drew my knife, and looked up, the statue was looking directly at me, urging me on, all I could hear was the rushing sound of my own blood pumping with deafening noise as I screamed the incantation of sacrifice and brought the wavering blade down in a wide slash across the girls throat. I could feel my own ecstasy rushing through me as the girls life blood rushed out and down into the ruddy depths, the pool contracting as would a parched throat gulping at sweet nectar.
I felt numb and barely felt the second sacrifice, mechanically performing the rite as though some grim automaton, elbow deep in innards and arterial spray making my visage all the more horrid. Hours passed as the ghoulish spirit spoke to me of its plans and how I was to execute them.

The one god had gone, the halls of eternity beckoned for those with a will to take up divinity, the time of Mictlan had come, the eater of children would arise and take his place amongst the stars and devour the new born of the world and those who served it well would stand at its side, wield its blades and delve into the viscera of its victims. All the while the girls mouth opening and closing rhythmically, but not in time with the insidious voice. I staggered into the sunlight, my purpose set, Xolotl’s brawny arms holding me up. It was now spring, I hadn’t noticed the passing of winter. I let out a sigh and we began our walk to the city, I had much news to pass to the priests.

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

<font color="green"> Two Months of Spring in the first year of Acension.
</font>

<font color="purple">Tanacatecuhtli, Mictlan Priest </font>
We returned to the capital, tired, dazed but most assuredly not confused, our purpose gave us meaning, we were the chosen of Zum Zu’aal, we could feel his strength and will pushing us onwards. Many plans had to be made. Xolotl left to rally his warriors and I was left to prepare myself for the ordeals ahead, the cults had to be informed, though I was sure the Moon Priests would have felt the awakening and my suspicions were confirmed as I walked towards the Temple of the Moon, a chill quiet seemed to pervade the district, the few people I saw, hurried onwards quickly and my arrival at the marble steps of the temple went largely unnoticed.

I knew whom I sought, I needed allies if the new god were to rise and the Cults would not simply submit their will on bended knee, they would have to be bribed, cajoled and persuaded and bought, gold went a long way in religious circles, I sighed, once it used to be simply about the blood, but no longer, gold was its own unholy currency. Citalatonac, I knew would have sensed the rising power, he was well known for his powerful dream prophecy and also for the strength in his sacrificial arm. I knew our new god would make use of his powers if he could be bought. We had some small wealth, the remains of Xolotl’s tribal tithe, it had to be enough, but I that once a priest of Citalatonac’s status sided with us, the previous problems of church politics that plagued Xolotl would vanish and so would his income be restored.

I raised my hand to knock on the door and was faced with my own skeletal arm protruding from my sleeve, the months had taken their toll on me, shrugging off the memory I rapped my knuckles on the solid door. Citalatonac’s voice rang out in reply, deep and resonant
“Enter, Tanacatecuhtli”
With a deep breath I placed my fingers on the cool wood and pushed, the door swung silently inward. Citalatonac was seated behind a desk, scrolls littering the cluttered surface. Stepping into the room and closed the door behind me and turned to face the Moon Priest. Dark eyes and a sardonic smile met mine and I sensed immediately that Citalatonac knew why I had come.
“I sense a great purpose behind you, Tanacatecuhtli and I see the gold in your pouch. I fear that I will have a new master this eve, and perhaps a new purpose also.”
“You would do well to fear Citalatonac, what I serve is terrible in its malice, I would not care to think of the fate of one who disobeyed it, but what it promises for us…” My voice trailed off.
I dropped the gold onto the table with a dull clunk, two hundred and thirty pieces. A standard dowry for priestly service, I reflected that this was probably not quite the service the artificer of the sum had in mind.
“Tell me all you know” said Citalatonac.
The evening passed swiftly as I related what I had done, slaves were called and missives sent, the first grain of sand had fallen and would soon cause an avalanche, of that I felt sure. If we would be swallowed whole into the deserts was the question.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
Xolotl knew his task was simple, he trusted Tanacatecuhtli to fulfil his side of the bargain and get his lands restored and in return he would levy his warriors and provide income to the new god to build his empire, it was all a warrior could have dreamed off. Still, even with the horrors of war and death that he had witnessed, what he saw that night in the cave had tested his sanity. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he walked into the barracks where his men were housed and barked orders, fifteen armoured spear and fifteen un-armoured spear, all skilled slingers gathered in the courtyard. There were soft murmurs from the men, some of whom had been on the journey with Xolotl and Tanacatecuhtli, none knew what to expect. Xolotl spoke simply.
“We go to war, be ready; we will march in once I have word from the borders”
Xolotl grinned. His men loved to fight and war meant one thing, profit and death. There was an excitement in the air now, the promise of gold and blood spurring their spirits on. Still, they had limited funds and if he were to be successful in his campaign he would need to enlist more men, but with any luck Tanacatecuhtli could persuade the temples to allow him to hire the fierce Jaguar and Eagle warriors, perhaps even the elite Sun warriors from the High Temple in their gleaming copper scale and blood red hatchets, he felt a swell of pride, his son had been accepted into their ranks and despite being killed In a border skirmish, he was not sad but honoured. But first, he needed banner men, and fighting in the large feathered headdresses of the tribes required long training, he would make the relevant offerings of gold before the month was out.

<font color="purple"> Zum-Zuaal, Eater of Children, God of the Obsidian Blade and Jaguar King </font>
Zum Zu’aal could feel the changes around it like dark dreams, fully awakened it once more bent its great will upon the city in the plateau below, people would dream his name in their slumber and wake, with zeal and worship in their hearts. He knew the traditions, the priests would acknowledge him, for they could do little else in the face of his power, but they would still need their gold if they were to be effective. It could sense the two priests working on his behalf and the tribal leader capturing slaves from the nearby villages for warriors, it was a start, now he needed to begin to delve the mysteries again, much had changed, the spheres had shifted, old summonings would no longer work and so new ones must be divined but first, Thaumaturgy, it held the secrets of his Moon Priests powers of mental destruction and so he must bend his will on mastering mind burn.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
As the month past Xolotl received word of what forces held the surrounding lands, to the south a great impassable mountain range which none in recent times had past to the east, Dershid, held by poorly organised Militia, Infantry and Archers. The archers better range could be a problem for his slingers, he would tackle that in time, above Dershid the large Greenwoods, again Archers and Infantry, though some heavy, he needed a softer target to get his men back into the swing of war. To the west and north west, Cacian Forest and Undrase, his runners reporting just Militia and Infantry, no missiles to tear through his ranks, perfect. He would sweep west and test his forces, then into Undrase where Tanacatecuhtli had promised to meet him with more men and temple backing.

<font color="purple"> Tanacatecuhtli, Mictlan Priest </font>
Tanacatecuhtli confidence was growing, he had been called back to the great fountain and performed his first sacrifical rite in the name of the new god, word was spreading among the people and Citalatonac researching and entreating the other temples to allow us to access their warriors and most importantly the blood slave pens of the Temple of the High Sun. Xolotl was leaving for the west and he was ready to recruit the fearsome Jaguar warriors on behalf of Zum Zu’aal, the religious fever around the city was at a pitch he could barely dream. He just hoped Xolotl met with success for he feared for their souls if not.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
Xolotl had ridden for many days before finally seeing the edge of Cacian Forest, his runners had kept him well informed of the quickly mobilizing enemy that surely knew he was coming, they planned to meet him in the forest eaves, a mistake on their part he knew but they were poorly trained militia no match for his troops, despite being more numerous, he would tempt them out and rake them with his slingers till they neared, then charge and trust his spear to keep casualties at bay. He could see them as his troops marched into position, fools, they had not gauged the distance of his slingers and their front ranks were just in range, the rank captain looked back to over his shoulder for command. Xolotl raised his hand, took but a moment to feel the wind on his face and then swept it down, the whip of leather slings cut the air and a hail of stone shot arced over the intervening distance and slammed into the surprised ranks, he saw two men fall, one with his head staved in and the other from some leg wound. The enemy charged, CRACK ! another volley from his sling and more men down. Xolotl grinned, shouted and watched with glee as the shining tips of his armoured spear lowered and prepared to move forward the forces clashed like a wave upon a beach and crashed backwards as his men thrust their steep tips forward into gullets and guts, the front ranks were crushed. It did not take long, their morale shattered the first rank of militia broke and routed in the face of Xolotl’s army. A second rank tried to stem the tide, but was swiftly cut down from sling fire and the thrust and slash of honed spearpoint. The day was his. Marching across the field he shouted for runners to be sent to Mictlan, the first battle was won.

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

<font color="green"> Late spring and early summer, the first year of ascension
</font>

<font color="purple"> Tanacatecuhtli, Mictlan Priest </font>
Tanacatecuhtli had heard of Xolotl’s success in the west, it boded well and now Citalatonac had mastered Mind Burn he would go to join him along with a dozen Jaguar warriors, their ferocity would strengthen Xolotl’s ranks especially with his blessings, the power of Zum Zu’aal conveyed great strength and fear to those sacred to the temples. Xolotl had requested that a squad of the swift eagle warriors be recruited in anticipation of the territories which had archers and so Tanacatecuhtli had left instructions with the relevant people and if it did not please Zum Zu’aal, he felt sure the spirit would let its will be known through its Bloodspeaker.
Tanacatecuhtli knew it was important that he travel with the armies also, he needed to douse territories for the suitability for virgin blood, if their plans were to come to fruition they would need a steady influx of sacrificial blood and the offerings the Temple of the high sun received would not be enough for the blood priests to call forth the armies of hell which he knew Zum Zu’aal would demand be called forth on his behalf, Tanacatecuhtli grimaced, he had read of the ancient blood magic’s and whilst adept himself, the deeper mysteries were shrouded and feared, Was it his imagination of had the room become colder ?, the tribes of Mictlan were used to the sun and worshiped its burning glare, but rarely if ever did they need to use fire’s for warmth as the land itself was more than temperate, moving to the hearth he piled logs and prepared to light a fire….

<font color="purple">Mictlipoctli, King of Legends </font>
I could hear whispers in my sleep, a voice, familiar, but the darkness was so warm it had embraced me for too long, who was I? I could barely remember, ahhh, yes, a king, but of where?, memories began to flood back. I stretched my senses and felt cold stone around me and something missing, perhaps I had awoken to despatch a mere thief? Who would dare steal from Mictlipoctli! I would string their innards around my tomb as a grisly ornament!, but no, the lid of my sarcophagus was intact, then some other reason had called me, perhaps the whispers ?. I must awaken fully and enter the world of the living again, my tenure in the underworld was over.

<font color="purple"> A Tomb Guard of Mictlan </font>
The guard sighed and looked up as his post relief walked in, he had barely started eating the vine wrapped sweet meats his wife had given him this morning and now he would have to walk the tombs on a grumbling belly ! Still, with all the activity in the temples of late and the priesthood proclaiming a new god, he had better ensure he kept to his duties. Mind, he could always take them with him and stop in a tomb hall on the way for a quick bite, unlikely anyone would spot him there and he could always claim he was investigating a noise. Walking hurriedly the guard made for the halls of the low initiates they were always quiet, yes that would do nicely. Propping his spear against the wall next he sat down beneath the coffin filled alcoves and leant back on the wall removing the leaf wraps from his belt pouch, he could smell the lamb and spices, truly his wife loved him this was his favourite. Biting into the first cigar shaped package the guard munched satisfyingly, but it was with some surprise that the rasp of stone on stone broke his gastronomic reverie and looking up it was with greater surprise that he saw a large stone lid being shoved out of an alcove directly above him powered by the bandage wrapped and skeletal hand of its occupant. His shock was momentary as the huge stone lid finished its outward journey and crashed downward, unable to sit up quickly enough the guards Last thought was of the wasted second food parcel as the heavy stone lid struck him in the back of the skull sending rice, mined meat and brains onto the rooms floor.

<font color="purple"> Mictlipoctli, King of Legends </font>
Mictlipoctli easily lifted the lid of his tomb from its resting place and outwards to the stone’s below, strangely it did not make a crash after he let it go but instead gurgled, this however was of a secondary concern as sitting up he was angered to see that his tome was missing from the foot of his resting place, he would rectify this. How long he wondered had he walked in the underworld, time there had little meaning for the dead had transcended its decaying grip. Noticing the guard’s prostrate form on the floor he wondered why he was being guarded, no one knew of his incarceration in this place, he had gone to rest in a secret place the tomb originally built for him filled with only death for the tomb robbers that would surely come for his great wealth. Grabbing the corpse by the throat he lifted it easily into the air blood and gore raining down from the cracked skull onto Mictlipoctli’s face like a refreshing ruby rain. Tossing the cadaver to one side as the bloody rain subsided the mummy contemplated its next move, it could feel the voice, whispering but it also wanted its tome back and striding into the darkness it left the slain guards corpse with its remaining eye looking forever more at the Last vine wrap that lay by its broken skull.

<font color="purple"> Tanacatecuhtli, Mictlan Priest </font>
Tanacatecuhtli knelt in front of the small pile of wood he had placed in the hearth and prepared to light the small kindling placed beneath with a coal from the incense brazier he kept burning nearby. Concentrating on his task he did not see the door to his chamber swing silently open and framed against the light was a figure of legend from his nations past.
“Fires do not please me, Tanacatecuhtli, Blood Priest” The voice washed over Tanacatecuhtli like a sand scouring across desert bones drawing an involuntary shiver and forcing the kneeling priest to steady himself against the hearth.
Steadying himself as quickly as possible Tanacatecuhtli stood and spun round, eyes wide and teeth bared in a grimace of fear.
“Wh-Wh-Who are you?” the priest stammered, unable to master the gut wrenching fear that was emanating from the dusty figure in front of him. His memory was sluggishly recalling his venture into the tombs so months previous but the marked change from a dried husk to the night born terror which stood defiant in front of him seemed barely possible.
“Do you not recognise one of your Kings when he stands before you?” The mummified creature hissed from its desiccated mouth.
“You have something which belongs to me, return it or face my wrath”, The threat did not fall on deaf ears and Tanacatecuhtli, quickly turned to his papers and uncovered the black tome which he had taken and shakily proffered it to the figure’s bandaged and outstretched hand.
“Mictlipoctli?” ventured Tanacatecuhtli, the husk nodded and the jagged hole which formed its mouth stretched into a grim rictus. Tanacatecuhtli could scarcely believe his eyes, here in front of him was the most legendary and bloody king Mictlan had ever known.
“We will no doubt meet again, Tanacatecuhtli” the voice murmured, “I feel we share a common destiny” and before another word could be said, the thin figure turned and shambled from the chamber leaving Tanacatecuhtli, shakily reaching for the flask of spirits in his desk.

<font color="purple">Zum-Zuaal, Eater of Children, God of the Obsidian Blade and Jaguar King </font>
Zum Zu’aal could feel the figure making its way from the city such was the power it emanated; he also knew which of the great ones had answered his call first. Mictlipoctli, King of Legend had returned from the depths of the underworld to serve the Eater of Children, the heads of the four statues shifted and graven smiles crossed the unholy faces of the women. Languishing on the stone lip of the edifice the young girl could feel the heat of the blood splashing onto her exposed flesh and knew instinctively that her master was pleased, she slid a delicate hand over the side and felt the warm vitae reach up to meet her fingers.
“A great ally comes, my sweet one, I will speak to him through you” the girl nodded and slid backwards into the fountains warmth. Mictlipoctli strode into the chamber that he had slain a thousand virgins in.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
Xolotl was pleased with his progress, Lama to the west of Cacian forest had fallen easily with little casualties although some of his slave warriors had lost their lives in the Last skirmish and now a moon priest and Tanacatecuhtli had joined him bringing a squad of Jaguar warriors with him, the recent battles had fired his blood and the tone of command and presence he now exuded was bolstering the men’s morale, the jaguar warriors would only add to that. He had seen them fight before but it was when they were injured they became most dangerous, their flesh rippling and changing into the fearsome were-jaguars becoming bestial with increased strength and battle prowess.

Undrase was his next target and reports had told him they had archers, which probably meant that he could levy them if they could take it. He had not wanted to face arrow fire without either his own to counter or the eagle priests to fly swiftly over the battle field to engage them before they could do too much damage. Still, if he placed his slaves up front to draw the arrow fire, and his armoured spear behind to soak up overshot he could put his own weaker slingers to the left to give cover to the charging ranks and place the jaguar warriors to the right and told to charge straight in. He was positive the infantry would break under such force and minimise any damage. Tanacatecuhtli had told Xolotl of the return of the legendary king, that must be a good sign, though he wondered what horrors the mummy would call for him to fight alongside, these were interesting times indeed reflected Xolotl, two weeks to Undrase another battle, then rest while the moon priest, Citalatonac searched for sites of power, it would give him time to capture some slaves from the surrounding countryside and possibly gain some archers of his own, that would take him into summer, not the fastest advance, but a strong one none the less, he hoped the god would be pleased.

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

<font color="green"> Summer to Autumn in the First Year of Ascension
</font>
<font color="purple"> A Mictlan Spearman </font>
The soldier looked up into the darkening skies and wiped the rain from his brow, the troop had been marching for over two weeks to reach the plains of Undrase. He felt good, the battle pay he had already earned would see his wife well for many seasons and the unborn son he had left would have a hero for a father, the first advance of the new god’s army, surely he was blessed. Despite being soaked to the skin he didn’t mind the rain as he knew they faced archers and it would limit their fire somewhat although it made his hide shield feel heavy on his arm as it soaked up water. He could feel the life of his tribal brothers around him, their breath, like dragon smoke billowing from their mouths in the moist air, the creak of leather and dull clank of wooden haft on hide shield. A quick check of his pouch told him he had a full fifteen stones for his sling, though he knew they would be making a paced charge this time shields held high and spears level. The Jaguar warriors intrigued him, he had wanted to join their ranks as a child but the priests had passed him over and so he had joined the regular army instead.
“Spears level! Shields aloft!!” came the bellowing voice of Xolotl their commander.
The soldier was proud to fight under Xolotl, his mere presence made him feel more confident, the same feeling the feathered warriors gave him when he saw their garish antics in the middle of battle.
The air was filled now not just with rain but tension, he looked left and saw one of his brothers briefly pray to Zum Zu’aal to keep him safe and give him luck this day, the new god’s name felt strange, but who was he to question a god ?.
“Charge!” Came the shout.
The soldier began to jog forward, spear levelled, shield up, he smiled and saw his wife waving him off from their hut her long hair cascading down her shoulders in a bronze waterfall and the small bulge in her tummy glowing with health.
Then he saw them through the haze of the rain, a forest of spear tips in the distance and a wall of round shields. He could hear a buzzing in the air and heard the whisper move through the ranks
“Arrows!, shields high !” The was a thud next to him, his brother who had prayed was clutching at a feathered shaft which protruded from his throat, blood gouting from around the hole, it looked black in the rain, blood was so very important he thought, it kept you alive. There was another thud, a steel arrowhead plunged through his shield but was stopped by the leather which had tightened in the rain, he mentally promised to make a donation at the Temple of the Rain when he got home and then the front ranks hit their infantry with a crash. Deflecting a spear with his shield the soldier thrust at an approaching enemy who was forced back by the attack, the warrior to his right went down, transfixed by an arrow and he could hear the whip of sling shot hitting the ranks ahead of him, another warrior took his place. Then he heard a great roar, a warrior in furs to the right of him had dropped his obsidian sword when a spear had grazed his torso, quicker than the soldier could follow great claws had burst through flesh and giant fangs grown from what was now the muzzle of a jaguar, he had never seen the transformation before, it was startling. With a lightning fast leap, the were-jaguar leapt forward, claws tearing at the shocked infantry man who went down under the weight of the now massive creature.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
Xolotl filled the cup of his sling with a large stone shot and began the hopping spin that would send the stone hurtling with deadly force towards his enemies. He could see an infantry man flanking one of his men who was watching a jaguar warrior tear into the enemy, what was he thinking! the man would run him through surely. Xolotl loosed the stone ball towards the infantryman and was dismayed to see it bounce off the leather cuirass of the soldier. Then Citalatonac was next to him, arcane words echoing partly in Xolotl’s mind and partly in the moist air, he pointed at the spearman as he began to thrust and a white column erupted from the top of the enemy’s cranium. The soldier emitted a high pitched screech as his mind was burned like parchment in a brazier and letting go of his spear dropped to the floor slain. Xolotl felt for another stone in his pouch, but the cries of the dying could not drown out the shouts of victory as his men began to chase the broken army of Undrase from the field, he could see the soldier Citalatonac had saved stabbing at the now vulnerable rank of archers and he smiled, he remembered the young lad speaking of his soon to be born son with glee the night before. Maybe he would be lucky enough for Zum Zu’aal to devour him once born, now that would be an honour!.

<font color="purple"> Citalatonac, Moon Priest </font>
Citalatonac was worried, they had taken three territories now and despite searching none had revealed any sites of power, he knew other priests from the temple of the land and the temple of the rain would follow on in his wake to search but he had hope to find a painted cave at the least in these old tribal lands, still the addition of more captured slaves and the newly recruited archers that Xolotl and Tanacatecuhtli had hired would serve them well, the forest of Mag was their next target and they had word of a Priest King joining them with Eagle warriors on the borders next at the start of the month.

<font color="purple">Zum-Zuaal, Eater of Children, God of the Obsidian Blade and Jaguar King </font>
Zum Zu’aal bubbled in contemplation as his mind listened to the thoughts and dreams of his growing followers, he would need a prophet to spread his word soon, but none had shown their worth, the ancient mummy was a possibility but he was too precious to send forth into battle now and the spirit needed someone to preside over the sacrifice of children in the outlaying provinces to ensure his word spread. There were other things to attend to in the meantime. The arrival of Mictlipoctli so soon was an unexpected boon and the people would see it as an omen, however he had not had time to prepare the tools the mummy would need, the mysteries of enchantment needed to be plunged so that they could cage a spirit of the underworld into a mortal corpse and create a revenant to assist Mictlipoctli in diving site’s of death.
“Mictlipoctli!” Echoed the blood drenched girl, her head lolled to one side and mouth open and drooling.
“Yes, my god?” Whispered the ancient mummy as it approached the stone structure.
“I wish you to create me an army of death, to herald my name and usher the destruction of all who oppose me!” The ethereal shrieking shifted pitch in harmony with the demand.
“Give me access to your blood slave pens and in the absence of death, I shall raise the skeletons of demons from their unholy graveyards to march in your glorious name” the words slithered like sand on glass from the shrivelled mouth.

<font color="purple"> Mictlipoctli, King of Legends </font>
Mictlipoctli watched as the young blood speaker hopped up onto the lip of the statue and was embraced by the seemingly living statues at the centre, the rites to call for bone fiends were not solely in the province of blood, requiring knowledge of death also. The cults had lost their affinity for death when that old Couatl had banished his cult an age ago so he knew he would be alone in his work. Still, in the months that had passed since the rising of the Jaguar king, the temples blood pens had filled and he knew he would have enough innocents to slay to call the bone fiends forth. He marched from the cave and issued orders to the waiting attendants to prepare the summoning circles and other paraphernalia he needed, including the six innocent lives whose blood he needed to power the ritual.

<font color="purple"> Tzitzimime, Priest King </font>
Tzitzimime had felt a swell of pride when one of the attendants of the new god had entered the temple of the land with the offerings of gold which would bind him to service, he knew other priest had been bound, but he was the first of his temple. Tzitzimime had acted as a priestly leader to the kingdom for many years but yearned for the legends of the old ways when blood flowed like a great flood and the empire was rising. Since meeting Mictlipoctli he had been unable to shake the feeling that it might happen again in his time and it pleased him greatly. Taking command of a flight of the eagle warriors he had been told to take them and some reinforcements to Mag and join up with Xolotl the tribal king currently leading the nation’s main army. If all was well he would accompany them to ensure the blessings of Zum Zu’aal were given to the warriors in their eagle feather cloaks and also to capture more slaves, but most importantly, seek out sites to gather the elusive but essential gems of nature needed to fuel the powerful rituals his temple possessed. One week was all he needed and he would be on his way while the summer sun beamed down its blessing of fertility upon the rich lands of Mictlan.

<font color="purple"> A Blood Slave </font>
The young girl looked fearfully up from the cage as she heard the guards approach, as naïve as she was, her future fate did not escape her. At fourteen seasons she had kept her innocence in the hope of meeting a fine husband but instead she had been given by her parents as a gift to the temple of the sun in return for land favour, she sobbed and wished that the new god would devour them instead of her. The thought sobered her and she sniffed and wiped the tears from her dusty face, the other five girls around her had either cried themselves to sleep or were near hysterical with fear. The slave keeper looked impassively on as the priest and guards that accompanied him spoke to him, he handed them the keys. Quickly the cage was opened the girls herded out to be examined by the priest and each handed a white robe to wear and chained in a line with slim silver shackles as each set of shackles were fitted, the girls quieted and became dazed and mindless, at Last the line came to her and the cold silver of the clamp placed around her slim ankle, she could feel the warmth flowing up her leg and try as she might, could not prevent its sinuous crawl up her flesh, as the feeling reached her neck she gave one Last fearful gaze at the stone faced priest and then her mind was lost to the passive feelings generated by the shackles and with a tap from a scabbard hilt, the line was lead off into the corridors of the temple and who knew where.

<font color="purple"> A Temple Priest </font>
Approaching an ornate door of steel and obsidian etched stone the white clad line came to a halt, the priest approached the door and grasped a grotesque looking iron heart held fast by a dagger piercing it and swinging from a chain which lead to the nose ring of a demonic beast of some kind. The iron heart rang out with a boom as it met the metal of the door. Without a word the doors began to slowly open revealing a large chamber beyond, tiered steps leading downwards to an octagonal centre, ringed by braziers with gleaming red coals winking from their depths. Stepping through the steel doors the priest barely acknowledged the robed and hooded figure beckoning the figures in white forward, columns of dark incense curling snake-like from the braziers around it. A distant thunder pealed through the priests mind, perhaps a storm? , no, drums, rhythmic and pulsing like some dread theme to the grisly events unfolding.

The priest could see markings on the floor around the figure, arcana that even as an adept of blood magic, he could not decipher. The girls took up positions around the figure even though the priest could hear no commands being issued; only the deep boom of the drums seemed to penetrate the heavy atmosphere of the laboratory. In position the robe girls remained frozen like statues as the figure in the centre of the circle look around surveying that all was indeed ready and reaching up pulled back the black hood which obscured his features revealing a scene of tomb wrought horror to the observing priest, desiccated and shrivelled with hollow eye sockets and thin dried hair protruding from between crusted bandages long since bonded as one with the leathered flesh. Animated by his own dark will the mummy began to inscribe symbols in the air with his clawed hand, the incense in the air drifting inwards and seeming to hold into place as each mark was written in the air. Shambling slowly round followed by swirls of dark smoke that clung to the now numerous black symbols hanging in the air Mictlipoctli finished the circle and shot a hollow eyed glance at the nearest girl who lurched forward and into his chilling grasp. Stepping behind her and producing a murderously curved blade from within the mysterious innards of his robe the mummy raised the blade and with one quick movement brought the keen point deep into the gullet of the motionless girl. Yanking the blade free and her head back with one skeletal fist clutching her hair Mictlipoctli directed the now spurting arterial spray into the midst of the drifting symbols. Still silently observing the proceedings the priest watched as the blood where it met the smoke disappeared and did not pass downwards to the ground but instead ripped small holes in the very fabric of reality as though shattering a window to another place, more and more tears were appearing as the rhythmic gouts of the girls life force pumped forth directed by the steel grip of Mictlipoctli. The air in the circle looked like a curtain with a thousand tiny holes burned through it and some dark other place could be glimpsed beaming through and lifting the now spent remains the mummy hurled the corpse forward at the punctured veil. As though struck by a large stone the very air gave way as the blood covered remains struck the centre of the smoke circle and revealed fully beneath was another place that reached out to places in the mind and imagination that should never be thought, let alone seen. Stretching off for as far as the eye could see was a field of cracked bones, as though some eternal battle had been fought and each fallen warrior decayed unto bones, the clawed remains of charred trees reached their clawed stumps upwards from the landscape of bones as though trying to grasp the dark and billowing skies, periodically lit by unseen flashes of lightening.

<font color="purple">Mictlipoctli, King of Legends </font>
Moving quickly Mictlipoctli called forth a second blood slave who mechanically stumbled into his deadly grasp, again the blade flashed and her throat was slit, a brutal gash rendering her smiling in her own imminent death as she was lifted over the pulsing portal and her life force ebbed downwards onto the bone floor. Speaking for the first time the unliving king echoed a calling as the first droplets of blood reached the parched bone floor, the words spoken in the ancient tongue of blood which as an adept the priest understood
“That which eternal lies, and with countless aeons even devils die, be bound by this deaths call and serve my will till thy own scythe falls.”
The words echoed into the black eternity of the place beyond and with a grisly cracking some of the bones began to move towards the now pooling blood on the floor beyond the veil. Clawed arms reached from the very ground as the bones boiled around the focal point and a fiend of death and blood lifted itself from the graveyard of demons from which Mictlipoctli had called it. Quickly reaching for another slave the process was repeated and again another hell born bone fiend was raised from its own torment. The priest noticed the smoke which bubbled at the edge of the veil was drifting free and where it left, the laboratory could be seen as the natural order reasserted itself and nature healed the wound which the blood had caused. Finishing the third summoning, the priest was startled to see a skeletal claw reach out through the veil and grasp the edge and begin to pull itself upwards, free from the hellish prison it had been born in, then another claw and another bone fiend. The priest looked dismayed but Mictlipoctli stood as though stone, the final girl gripped tightly in his grasp as the third bone fiend escaped from its infernal incarceration. Advancing menacingly the fiends bore down on the immobile form of the King of Legends, then at the Last moment, the final offering was thrust into the charging path of hell, tearing at the sweet blood within the white robe was slashed by the razor claws of the beasts and where each swipe fell, crimson pearls scattered through the air as the frenzied creatures slashed and gored the sacrifice. Meanwhile with chilling words issuing from his evil maw, the mummy spoke words of binding upon the fiends. The priest closed his eyes; he could not imagine having to go through such an ordeal. Bound to the summoners will the fiends, gore smeared stood still after their unholy feast.
Mictlipoctli turned to his awestruck attendant and said simply.
“Prepare the laboratory; we perform the summoning again on the next favourable conjunction”.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
The battle of Mag was short-lived, the new archers that Xolotl had recruited in conjunction with the sling shots of the Mictlan troops had decimated the incoming infantry and though some slaves and a few warriors had been lost when the blessings of Zum Zu’aal had touched the wings of the fanatical eagle warriors the Priest King had brought they soared high into the air and rained death from above on the small group of archers and commanders that sat in mistaken safety at the back of the battle. It was true the poorly protected eagle warriors had suffered casualties but their purpose was served well and he knew more would follow from the capital. They were to remain a month while Citalatonac and Tzitzimime searched for magical places. He would busy himself with the rowdy and unruly residents of the wood, this was a wild place alright, he suspected bandits or insurgents were rife and he would patrol the next weeks to subdue them and fill his own slave quota.

<font color="purple"> Citalatonac, Moon Priest </font>
Citalatonac had been searching the province for over two weeks when he came upon the first signs, a rune, carved into the bark of a tree. It was a simple code for those who knew the arts of magic and meant knowledge. Could there be a guild of some kind hidden in these woods? Tzitzimime was searching the forest also and he felt sure between them they would uncover what they sought. It had taken a further week of probing before he had spotted the squat tower jutting from the tops of the trees, he smiled as Tzitzimime followed his direction and caught sight also and together they walked through the trees towards the clearing where a robed figure awaited them at the foot of the tower. Citalatonac mentally prepared himself as they approached in case the figure proved hostile, but he was confident that between them they could handle most things and as they approached the figure called out.
“Declare yourself, who approaches this place of knowledge” the figure called.
“I am but a servant of Zum Zu’aal, Eater of Children, God of the Obsidian Blade and Jaguar King” Citalatonac replied.
The figure nodded and gestured they approach. Citalatonac remained still and made a further challenge
“Do you acknowledge the divine will?”
There was a brief pause and the sage merely nodded and walked back into the tower, the door left open, the Mictlan priests looked briefly at each other and followed in.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
Tanacatecuhtli seemed pleased when Xolotl gave him the news that the other priests had uncovered a Sage’s guild but he needed the priests help in uncovering the continuing unrest in the region, they had already killed half a dozen trouble makers but Xolotl felt certain there was some root cause of this trouble and he knew the priests had a nose for blood, so he had enlisted Tanacatecuhtli on the patrols. Sure enough, they had tracked down a Brigand’s lair and the priest was even now bribing the brigands and telling them of the new god, Xolotl sighed, he would have liked to just slay them out of hand, but he knew they would simply return in another place, it was unlikely this region would be quelled fully and the taxes would have to be light to keep the peace. Still, the bandit leader had told him something of the forces that would face him as they passed from the eaves of this forest and further east into Ligrea, apparently a tribe of lizardmen resided there and even the villains in this wood avoided them as they ate human flesh if they caught it. Still, they used tridents for battle and no missile’s, he would spend the month the priest had asked for recruiting more archers here and then play a holding action and let the lizards run the gauntlet of stone and arrow to get to his troops, he felt sure that would take the bite out of them, chuckling at his own joke Xolotl returned to the conversation at hand as the priest shook hands with the grubby bandit and turned back to Xolotl with a smile.

[ July 27, 2004, 13:59: Message edited by: spirokeat ]

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

Good story, but it made my stomach hurt a bit. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon9.gif

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

-dp-

[ July 27, 2004, 13:55: Message edited by: sachmo ]

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

"Good story, but it made my stomach hurt a bit"

cackle, thanks. But if you play the blood, you gotta accept the blood, grin. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/tongue.gif

Spiro

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

Sorry to bump an old post like this, but I just came across this ARR and had to let you know how much I enjoyed it- great quality of writing, very fun to read! http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/icons/icon7.gif I always wondered if I was the only dom2 player that had little stories running through his/her head while (s)he played...

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

thanks for the bump Mad, appreciated. I haven't had chance to continue story as I went on holiday and then had some Uni work to contend with. Hopefully I should be back to it shortly !

Spiro

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

This AAR is actually still active, I have a lot more written. I will post at some point soon.

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

It has been a long time, but this is very well written. I'm just afraid finishing an AAR like this would take years... On the other hand, we don't know for sure that you haven't used a year just writing more of this. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/wink.gif

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

I must apologise for the lack of proofreading and probably lots of grammatical mistakes. I just fire it off into a wordprocessor.

When I do write its fast, but I took a break from playing DOM (it was eating me alive) and so suspended the game. Plus im experimenting with how to pace the AAR, the early bit when new things are happening is longer to write, but Im thinking that as the turns speed up and become routine I will be able to pass chunks of time and so let the game progress. I dunno, I never expected it to be so long.

Thanks for the comments though Endo.

Spirokeat

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

<font color="green"> Winter and Spring of the First to Second Year Of Ascension. </font>

<font color="purple"> Quetzalcoatl, The Legendary Priest King </font>
The cold winds felt good under the feathered wings of the serpent, for many centuries he had lain asleep his dreams as free as the clouds which he so loved to soar through, of late though he had dreamed of other things, memories of things he thought long dead. He recalled his tenure as the King of Mictlan, so long ago. He had destroyed the hereditary power of the blood cults, outlawed their practice in mistaken morality. The temple of the land was his doing, his legacy of nature to the kingdom but it had not been enough, with the blood gone, the strength of Mictlan had fled and the empire dwindled from the greatness it had known under that misbegotten beast, Mictlipoctli. But with the death of the Blood king, and after a long time as King in his place, his own hibernation the empire lost its vigour. Now he had awoken, he could feel the absence of the one god and more importantly he could feel the presence of the one who would take his place. The dark oracle had risen once more, its hunger more potent than he had ever felt and its malignancy a howling rage of brutal power, he felt the echo’s of the old kingdom and its glory in its call. Gliding downwards through the strata of clouds the night air cleared, and twinkling below him was the great city of Mictlan. Lights too many to count, sparkling and moving through the night time dance of city life and beyond Mictlan, on the mountain plateau, the dark maw of the cave where once as the Lawgiver, he had banished his new god. Quetzalcoatl wondered what Zum Zu’aal would say when he arrived at his mausoleum….

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
The forest was alive with noise as the army marched through it, they had been tracked for days, Xolotl was sure, he had sent runners out to find out what was ahead his observers had thus far avoided him though on occasion he could hear a sharp barking sound echoing ahead of his troops, it was unnerving the men, they needed an enemy they could fight, cursing the damnable forest he continued his march….

<font color="purple">An Attendant of the King of Legends </font>
The attendant hesitantly walked into the chamber where the mummy resided, the news he carried he knew would not be received well but not to pass it on as commanded would result in certain death as opposed to merely a chance at death.
“m-my lord…..” the voice wavered in fear.
“Why do you disturb my preparations, I ordered the slaves be taken to the laboratory” the voice was dark and filled with command.
“I-I’m sorry to inform you lord b-but the temple does not have the slaves you require, they await further offerings from the people” the attendant blurted quickly.
At first silence and then a rising wave of anger roared from the throat of the ancient thing, rising from its prone position seemingly without the aid of physical movement Mictlipoctli was striding towards the attendant swifter than a sandstorm. The ruined face hovered mere inches from the cowering attendant and then retreated slowly, leaving nothing but the scent of tomb lotus in its wake.
“Then I will present what I have to our lord and for your sake, pray he is satisfied”…

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
The lizard had proved harder to catch than the situation they had discovered it in suggested, it had bounded nimbly out of the grasp of the nets they had set for it and was making a snarking sound as it ran towards the thick shrubs to the left of Xolotl’s camp. Tzitzimime had come up with the plan to catch the elusive observers, his forest lore coming to the fore and combined with the slavers experience at capturing running prey he and Xolotl had come up with a plan. Two eagle warriors were blessed and given nets to soar into the treetops above their last camp, the main army breaking and preparing to move. Xolotl knew their observers could not resist sniffing round their camp site to glean any information they could and so he hid himself, Tzitzimime and two guards. Sure enough, some time after the main army moved off to the meeting place, a stout ugly creature with a long tail, elongated snout and wicked looking trident slinked into their now deserted camp, it reminded Xolotl of the crocodiles in the rivers near Mictlan, only this one walked on two legs and had beady eyes which were at this moment looking over the fire pits of the night before. Without warning the two eagle warriors swooped from above and startled the creature who let out a loud, SNARK! and dived to one side as the nets tumbled from the sky. Swearing Xolotl stood and shrugged off the foliage that covered him and sprinted towards the now retreating lizard. The guards were two far away to intervene and the eagle warriors soaring back into the trees, they wouldn’t be back in position for at least 30 seconds and by then it would be too late. Suddenly from behind Xolotl sailed a writhing mass of vines, projected by the conjuration of Tzitzimime and with amazing accuracy engulfed the fleeing creature who snarked in what could only be described as surprise. Passing Xoltol with a wide grin, Tzitzimime was loosening his slavers shackles from his belt and bearing down on the recumbent form, exuding playful arrogance at Xolotl for his success and the old mans failure. Still thought Xolotl, if the whelp thought he knew as much about torture and information extraction as the old tribal king, he had another thing coming, he would find out the location of the lizard army this evening and they would force march there tomorrow, he was tired of this place and desired battle…

<font color="purple">Mictlipoctli, King of Legends </font>
Mictlipoctli shambled his way into the cave entrance, much had changed in the year since Zum Zu’aal had returned, the path up the mountain was once more being paved and many priests and envoys from the temples and newly conquered lands journeyed here to pay homage, the walls had been restored and now frescoes and tapestries displaying ancient Mictlan legend adorned the walls. Even one showing a sea of blood and a depiction of himself as he was in life had been discovered and hung; Mictlipoctli paused briefly to reflect on his past life. There was something bothering him which he could not put his finger on, perhaps it was the continued lack of sites of deathly power, his main strength was rendered impotent without the precious distilled essence of death and he was relying on blood rituals, this needed to be rectified and he resolved to bring it to Zum Zu’aal’s attention directly. Walking into the main chamber he felt his mind and body freeze in shock at what he saw.
“YOU!” he involuntarily spurted.
The cloaked man in front of him hissed and smoke billowed around the figure as his form changed into a sinuous winged serpent. Leaping from the lip of the statue the young avatar leapt between the bristling assailants and the resonant voice of Zum Zu’aal boomed from around the chamber
“SILENCE!” the intonations of eternal torment in the voice were enough to pause the two ancient heroes and both remained across the chamber from each other, though neither would back down.
“Mictlipoctli, what news of my army?” the voice was commanding and offered no room for discussion.
“I have called forth twelve bone fiends from the graveyards of hell my lord”
“Good, send them with a moon priest to the frontier army.”
Mictlipoctli nodded.
“Lord, I must protest…” the mummy began but the deep voice of the god cut him off.
“I know of your concerns, Mictlipoctli, but your dispute is one of time and time has changed, Quetzalcoatl supports my ascension and thus is your ally” The voice offered no debate.
“I have a task and a gift, Mictlipoctli” the small avatar approached the mummy placed her hand and head lightly upon the withered king’s arm.
“Plaguetongue, come forth and present thy self”
The shadows behind the great statue seemed to move and gather form and stepping forth came an apparition which a mortal would have quailed at the sight of, a grotesque corpse animated by the unholy will of a spirit forced to inhabit the decaying shell. Mictlipoctli recognised the revenant as it stepped forward and wondered how Zum Zu’aal had come by the essence of death needed as if sensing the unasked question the four statues turned their heads to the Couatl, Quetzalcoatl.
“You have your once enemy to thank for this gift, he prepared the distillation from the vaults of the Temple of the Land” spoke the voice of the god.
Mictlipoctli knew the revenant would be useful, the armies had conquered at least five nations and he had not the time to travel and search for locales of death, if he could procure a supply of magical essence, much like Quetzalcoatl had done, he could have it distilled into death and Plaguetongue could perform the rituals of dark knowledge to divine each land.
“I have further instructions for you, also, continue to call forth bone fiends, if no slaves are available I wish you to call forth the longdead of this land to serve once more” the voice was calculating.
Mictlipoctli nodded again.

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

<font color="green">Summer to Winter in the 2nd Year of Ascension
</font>

<font color="purple">Atlaua, The Priest King </font>
Atlaua sat in quiet meditation awaiting the ringing of the small bell that would alert him to the readiness of the bath he had ordered drawn, silently behind him a young girl waited head bowed forbidden from looking directly at the priest king without his express permission. A fading yellow bruise adorned her smooth cheek where he had struck her days earlier for just such a transgression, he had called her to his bed and after satiating himself upon her slim youthful body she had looked at him, eye’s wide and quivering her mouth almost closed and gently biting her lower lip in either fulfilment or fear, he cared not which. A single backhanded blow to the side of her face would ensure obedience and he had strode from the chamber leaving her curled and weeping amongst the sheets. The chime of a small bell brought the priest from his reverie and he stood and allowed the robe he wore to fall to the floor the lights of the brazier playing across his tanned and wiry body. The slave moved forward and drew aside a heavy curtain to reveal a stout wooden door from which steam slowly bled from beneath. The door opened as the movement drew more steam into the room and Atlaua stepped into the bath chamber ready to be cleansed by the naked slave girls who awaited. Closing his eyes the priest relaxed as small soft hands ran gently over his body and oils were combed through his hair, he could feel the hard nipples of the newest slave girl pressing into his back with her slim legs wrapped round his waist as she attended his hair, but despite the involuntary arousal he felt the task at hand must take precedence. Fully cleansed Atlaua allowed himself to be led from the room and dressed in the garb he had ordered prepared earlier, looking silently at the waiting attendant he nodded and watched as a small bell appeared from the sleeve of the low ranking priest who stepped in front of Atlaua and solemnly began his journey to the temple, a gentle chime ringing for every ten steps taken. Glowing braziers of coals circled the chamber into which Atlaua was finally led, curling columns of heavy incense filled the air. At the centre of the chamber the implements of the ritual lay, a wicked curved knife, two glinting emeralds and three copper bowls, one filled with clean cold water. As the priest king knelt two figures stepped forward through the hazy smoke carrying a bound and bleating black goat and placed the slightly struggling animal in front of the priest. Atlaua picked up the gemstones and took a moment to look into their depths, on first appearance they looked like large emeralds but closer inspection showed swirling dim lights held deep within the mysterious heart of the crystalline receptacles. Lifting one gem in each hand Atlaua held them over the prostrate goat and began chanting in a quiet voice which somehow moved through the chamber disturbing the smoke as though a soft breeze issued from the kneeling priests mouth. Atlaua continued chanting and small leaves began to coalesce deep inside the now warm gems, falling slowly downwards touched by some unseen and unfelt wind the tiny leaves passed from within the structure and sparkled into the air of the chamber drifting onto the bound animal in a waterfall of green turning lights. The gems spent Atlaua picked up the knife and fixed the Greenwood forest in his mind and leaning over nudged the first bowl under the neck of the animal. A single swift cut and dark ruby blood spurted from the precise wound, washing over the polished and beaten surface of the bowl, the animals eyes wildly searching round in abject fear unable to move or issue sound from the bindings about it. Minutes passed till eventually the spurting became a flow and the flow a trickle and the mewlings and futile struggles of the goat subsided. Atlaua brandishing the knife again thrust powerfully forward into the belly of the beast and began a brutal sawing through the centre of the carcasses chest, spilling entrails and organs out onto the marble floor, finishing the gutting, the gore smeared arms of the priest began searching through the organs and lifting and cutting away the needed offal into the last empty bowl. Taking a moment to cleanse his arms in the water, Atlaua prepared himself for the last task, lifting the bowl of blood to his lips the warm viscous liquid began to pour down his throat the taste of iron and salt almost overpowering. The vitae consumed his eyes turned to the bowl of organs as the signs began to manifest themselves to the altered perception. The dark lustrous colour of the liver seemed to shift and take on the texture of the earth, arteries forming roots and the dripping blood trees and looking upwards Atlaua could sense the ancient presence of the Evergreen Grove which lay hidden in the heart of Greenwoods, Smiling he stood, blood dripping from his mouth and chin onto the floor as he took the organs and tossed them into largest brazier where they sizzled and charred.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
Xolotl ordered tents to be prepared for the evening, the soldiers had marched long enough the last two months and fought hard. Rhetha had fallen easily to his now swollen army with almost no losses, the archers proving their worth, Yacatechutl another tribal king had joined him bringing more Jaguar warriors and Mictlan spearmen, some armoured. He had considered spending a month in Rhetha to capture slaves but his scouts had discovered worrying information, A new nation had been discovered to the north east of Rhetha in the forest of Wolvermory. their troops riding under a green banner with the effigy of a great tree upon it and paying service to a being who falsely proclaimed himself divine, Farol the Fortifier, The Unsleeping God and Lord of Growth. Dispatching the news to the capitol, Xolotl sighed inwardly and called for camp to be broken immediately to march swiftly south east to Lettia to establish a border as soon as possible to ensure this new pretender could forge no further into the empire of Mictlan under the proclamations of neutral expansion…

<font color="purple"> Quetzalcoatl, The Legendary Priest King </font>
Quetzalcoatl gazed silently from the balcony of the tall tower he had occupied since his return; clouds drifted their slow and lazy way across the mainly blue skies that he had once given himself so fully over to that centuries had passed while he soared with the winds. From here he could see the great woods that surrounded the Mictlan and also the imposing and impenetrable mountains that blocked their expansion to the south. Drawing his mind back from the clouds he focused on the task that he had been given by Zum Zu’aal, take control of the limited stocks of magical essence within the temples and use it to search the new lands for sites of power. The reports that had returned from the frontline armies had told him of the discovery of the Sages Guild and he had been pleased when the first astral pearls had arrived in the laboratories for use, but nothing else had been discovered despite the attempts of adepts of blood, Astral, Nature and Divine physically searching many of the areas conquered. Plaguetongue had petitioned for gems to convert with alchemy but he had been able to fend off the cold requests of the revenant by the discovery of a handful of death gems earlier in the season found in an open grave, who knew what malign purpose those would be put to. Zum Zu’aal himself was presiding over the research needed to provide the magi and priests with their new powers and already many discoveries had been made, conjurations long lost and auguries to divine new sites of power with unerring efficiency had been returned to the temples, rituals to cut blood dipped swatches of ancient trees to assist in finding those of pure blood were already causing near evangelical hysteria in the priesthood. Looking briefly downwards Quetzalcoatl could see a priest of the land rushing across the courtyard, robes billowing heading directly to the entrance to the tower in which Quetzalcoatl stood, disappearing from sight minutes passed before the expected rapping of knuckles and panting breathing of the priest could be heard outside the chambers of the old Coatl.
“Enter, and take rest, brother” the soft voice of the priest king spoke out.
Moving into the room the heaving figure paused to take gulping breaths and dab at his glistening brow with the volumous sleeve of his robe.
“N-News from the haruspex you requested, a site has been discovered !”
Quetzalcoatl smiled, at last good news.
“Give me the details” the Coatl spoke.
“an Ancient Grove of Evergreens, my lord. Enough to produce one emerald per month” the priest quickly replied.
It was not much, but it was a start, if the greater magics were to be unleashed then he would need much much more. Still, if he could craft a Vine crown then he could begin to call upon the old woods and call forth vine men and vine ogres, they would heed his call, turning away from the priest Quetzalcoatl walked back to the balcony deep in thought.

<font color="purple"> The Mayor of Greenwoods </font>
Much had changed for the Mayor of Greewoods since the copper plated warriors had come, as a conquered people they had initially resisted the demands of the new empire and their taxes had been given over sullenly and in small amounts but as the months had passed the people had begun to settle into their new life, not much had changed for those who tilled the lands, The peasants and farmers paid taxes anyway, what did it matter to whom they paid it. Soon after the army had left travellers began to whisper of a great being who ruled in a fabled city at the foot of the impassable mountains to the south, on a clear day it was said. You could see the glinting of the towers of gold in the clouds, whispers of miracles being performed by the fakirs and the wondrous sights of the fanatical feathered warriors dancing in the city squares. The children had begun to wear feathers in the hair and mimic the stories and the name of Zum Zu’aal the Jaguar King was becoming well known. It had been another day of humid sun when the priest came to the mayoral office, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t remember the weather being so warm so much in over a decade, dabbing his brow the mayor greeted the official with a smile and bid him be seated. The news the priest brought could not have been better for the mayor, the priests of the moon and the land had seen promising omens in their auguries for the people of the Greenwood and it was possible that their children would be chosen to serve in the temples themselves!, it was a great honour the priest explained, to serve the lord in the temple, of course as part of their initiation they would enter into many years of study in seclusion but all the hard work and blood they would spill in the name of Zum Zu’aal would earn them a place deep in the Kings heart and to compensate the people for their gift to the King, taxes would be lowered to almost nothing.

<font color="purple">A Sanguine Douser of Mictlan </font>
The foolish mayor bubbled simpering thanks to the priest who hid behind the smile of the great God. He felt the divine purpose strengthen him in his task and he knew the lies he told would reward him with an honoured place amongst these people while he doused out their untouched and pure blooded children to serve in the temples, a service which he knew well would end gruesomely. He outlined what would be needed to accommodate the other priests that would come, a laboratory would need to be built and word spread to the outlying villages to be ready to receive the devout with offerings and their offspring for suitability. The priest wondered if his counterparts in nearby Mag were being received as well, either way he knew the blood would flow freely from this place as long as the deception could be maintained and even if the truth were known, the blood would still flow unwillingly or not.

<font color="purple"> Xolotl, Tribal King </font>
Lettia had broken easily under the assault of the archers and fierce jaguar warriors again with almost no losses, scouts had been dispatched to bring information on the surrounding area, Xolotl hoped that he would not find the banners of the great tree any further south than where they already were. When the scouts returned the information they brought came with a sting in its tail, Man had indeed not progressed any further south. The scouts had reported seeing columns of disciplined soldiers bearing broad tower shields and short blades of gleaming metal or tall spears tipped with bright steel marching under banners topped by golden eagles. Xolotl knew that only Pythium rode under the eagle banner and whilst their presence was a threat to Mictlans borders it also meant that they shared that problem with Man also, perhaps they would occupy each other should no hostile move be made against them by Mictlan, the borders would need a watchful eye and good militia. Assessing the maps drawn up from the information provided by the scouts, Xolotl pndered his next move, Wolvermory and Hynaphe occupied by Man to the north east and Pythium in Thing Woods and Runia to the east of Lettia and impassable mountains to the south. Although it meant leaving the borders relatively unprotected except by military etiquette he knew it was time to turn eastward and tackle Dershid adjacent to Mictlan itself, this would be a harder fight, his scouts had reported some fifty units of mixed infantry, the lightly armoured troops Xolotl did not fear but the well protected Heavy infantry would have to be taken head on as the archers with their short bows would have little effect upon them.

<font color="purple">Mictlipoctli, King of Legends </font>
Mictlipoctli was pleased when Plaguetongue returned with the essence he had requested, he had managed to persuade a few of the temples to part with some of the much needed essence so he could convert it to amethysts of death but thus far the incantations of dark knowledge had turned up nothing in the vibrant forests that Xolotl and the warrior priests had conquered. He could sense the old dark swamps that lay beyond the mountains to the south but getting an army there had eluded him thus far, he felt sure that in there lay the power he needed. Mictlipoctli knew he had enough bone fiends now to serve the army and messengers informed him of the planned assault on Dershid to the east of the capital, perhaps it was time to unleash his army of demonic death upon the world and the bounty of gems Plaguetongue had brought provided the last piece he had needed.
“Dimmu, come forth and heed my bidding” The ancient mummy hissed.
The shadows in the back of the room stirred and stepping forward an enormous plate armoured form moved into the light of the room. Numbing cold surrounded the withered and ancient warrior, his gauntleted hand resting lightly on the hilt of a terrible black blade in its scabbard at his side. Mictlipoctli unaffected by the cold approached the malignant hulking form of the Bane.
“Yes’sss, My lord.” The whispered reply emanated from deep within the black plate helm that wreathed the horror within.
“Gather the bone fiends from the pits in the temple and march to Dershid, assist Xolotl” Mictlipoctli commanded.
With only a nod, the great warrior spun and strode from the room, the cold wind following him…

<font color="purple"> A Scout of Mictlan </font>
The canyon walls rushed past the scout as he ran, not keeping to the stealth that his profession was noted for. He could hear the voices still behind him, were they right behind him? Or was that just the echo from the rocks. He chanced a look backwards and saw a stout leather clad figure holding a crossbow, SNAP. The sound hit him moments before the black tipped bolt shattered its shaft on the rough rock wall beside him. Adrenalin surging he sprinted deeper into the rocks, hoping to outdistance his pursuers and drop into hiding. He had been in Dershid for a week before he had made contact with the Militia there, if you could call it militia. Heavily armed infantry supported by spearmen and deadly crossbowmen, plus he had found traces of horse dung, which probably meant they had mounted troops also, though he had not managed to get a look at numbers so had no idea if they were heavy knights or just light horse, he suspected light if they were not immediately with the main body of the army guessing they would be out on patrol. The villages were set on the slopes of the mountain range which ran east to west across this province and which were widely considered impassable. Initially he had posed as a travelling trader and approached the villages in the usual manner of his profession, the people he met were ashen faced, fearful and refused to be drawn into any form of conversation at all, in the end he had been bluntly told to leave for his own good. Taking it as threat his only option was to scout the area by covert means a method which was more dangerous by far. The villages seemed geared for combat and he had noted good quality arms and armour being made by the smithy there, the village militia looked well prepared and experienced. The extent of the local defence became apparent two days after the scout had gone into hiding; a large body of infantry came marching back into the village, heavily armed and protected and by the look, battle veterans. Preparations were being made that very day for a new patrol to leave, which the scout had decided he would shadow to ascertain exactly what they were patrolling so thoroughly for. The patrol had moved quickly along the slopes of the mountains and not downwards into the valleys as the scout had guessed but into an intricate maze of canyons and gullies which took them deeper into the mountains. Luckily the weather had remained clear and the well trained skills of navigation and mapping had served the scout well as he tracked their route through the passes and three days later they broke through onto open ground. Looking downwards from his vantage the scout assessed the implication of what he was seeing, to the south hills receding to a short plain and in the distance black desolate and seemingly endless swamp, this was the secret of Dershid, a pass southward and also what they must be patrolling, what horrors climbed the hills from that primal soup he could not even imagine but he now understood why the villages looked so fearful and the villagers words now became clear, they had not threatened him at all merely warned him of what lay within their domain. Hiding in a natural dip above the troops the scout took stock of his situation, the ground was bleached white and felt crunchy, no, not crunchy…brittle. Travelling for days in hiding had done little for his appearance and had assumed that the chalky powder which now covered him was dust from the rocks in which he had been laying low, taking a handful of the gravel on the ground now gave him pause for thought. Looking around he swept aside smaller chunks of the material and was horrified to confirm his growing fear. Part of a jawbone with teeth intact lay in the palm of his hand. Unable to contain the wave of nausea the scout let out a small yelp and dropped the grim finding in shock. The noise alerted the soldiers below, who responded with shouts of alarm and the rustle of gathered arms. His cover blown the scout knew he had one chance to escape, his appearance as a bedraggled black clad and bone dust covered figure would earn him no quarter from the crossbowmen whom he knew would cut him down thinking him some fell thing, he began to run…

<font color="purple">A Camp Guard of Mictlan </font>
Small fires sparkled all over the hillside where they had chosen to camp, the warrior had pulled first guard duty which he knew meant he would miss the first mess session and cold stew, he sighed and tried to keep his back to the camp to let his nightvision adjust, still mulling discontent over his grumbling belly he looked out across the valley below and for one second the moon cleared the mass of dark clouds which clad the nightsky to illuminate a portion of the valley below. A figure strode into the luminescence but despite the distance the sentry could make out details on this monstrous figure. Fully clad in dark gleaming plate armour with shoulders wreathed in a cloak of inky blackness which seemed to move of its own volition, the figure strode forwards and out of the light and for a second the sentry questioned whether he had truly seen the figure at all or could it have been the night playing tricks on him. Then stepping into the dim beam of glowing light there were others. The vision made the guards lip curl back in involuntary horror as he tried to make sense of what his eyes were surely lying to him. Tall and humanoid In shape but with large sweeping wings jutting from their shoulders the creatures arms seemed preternaturally long with wicked looking claws forming where hands would normally be but most shockingly the creatures were entirely skeletal their bones paler and whiter even than the moon which bathed them. The first of the beasts moved out of the light to be instantly replaced by another its distorted and horned skull looking left to right before moving onwards into the night which birthed it and then another, rank after rank of the fiends. The guard shivered and drew breath to shout and raise the alarm but before he had filled his lungs he felt a hand upon his shoulder and a deep voice beside him.
“Be calm and rouse not the others” Citalatonac said.
The guards mesmer broken he spun and looked into the face of the moon priest.
“B-but, the devils !” his voice still wavered
“Even the darkness spews forth its childer in honour of he who we serve” the words were soothing and confident
“Th-then they fight with us?” the guards voice seemed incredulous.
“These and darker terrors will come to our aid in time, the old magics are being awakened.” The priests voice seemed introspective and the guard puzzled over what his words meant.
“But it would be wise not to approach them, now raise no alarm this night, the new day will bring enough time for the others to become accustomed, I will advise Xolotl myself” Citalatonac finished and left the guard to his lonely watch…

<font color="purple">The Cavalry Commander of Dershid </font>
“Sir…Sir ?” the questioning voice brought the mounted commander from his reverie and back to the situation at hand. He could feel his horse shifting from hoof to hoof beneath him, its powerful flanks heaving in the morning air. After the spy had escaped from their patrols last month they had known it was just a matter of time before the armies came. The mountain patrols had remained in the villages when they last returned and he knew that the passes would now be filled with all manner of dark things that seemed drawn from the swamps beyond, he had often wondered why, and during the many years he had acted as commander to the patrols he had kept a keen eye on stories and occasional sightings of something deeper and higher up the peaks than they ventured. Looking down the pass he could see the opposing armies forming up on the plain below and what he saw did not please at all.

They had placed lightly armed and protected troops forward and on the right leaving his mounted troops no option but to hit them or face attack from the rear, but a full charge on them would decimate them, a tactical but ruthless act by his counterpart. Archers covered their centre and two large blocks of armoured spear formed their front and centre. He would send his heavy infantry to meet them to minimise the effect of the archers and hope to do reasonable damage with his own crossbow before they clashed. A further measure of the nature of his enemies lay on the left rank, a mass of skeletal fiends lead by an armoured bane, a general raised from hell to lead unnatural armies. His men had faced creatures of that nature all their lives in the south of Dershid and a quick look over his shoulder to the two priests told him they would take a heavy toll on the undead with their banishments. Slightly back from the undead were troops he could not gauge the use of, tall warriors garbed in furs the head clad by some kind of snarling beast, they looked like the mountain cats which lived in the region only bigger, their weapons were even more archaic, long clubs bristling with black shards and spikes. Archaic they may be he thought but he did not doubt their effectiveness.

Behind their massed ranks he could see the commanders and their attendants, he had no doubt that some were priests but he fielded nothing they could banish, he was guessing their blessings would boost morale and all around them were what appeared to be guards wielding long spears and wearing long cloaks made of what appeared to be feathers. The sun was still low in the sky but the air was crisp and clear and the commander could see no further advantage in waiting, raising his blade clearly visible by his troops from his mounted position
“Today we face an enemy who’s motive we do not know!, but whos nature is clearly visible in the evil of his allies. We have faced such things all our lives and I know the worth of our metal.” The troops grunted in agreement, “Their numbers are greater but our hearts are stronger!, dig deep and glory to Dershid!” the last shouted and chorused by a crescendo of noise from his men. The blade dropped forward and the rumble of moving men accompanied it. The cavalry cantered off to the right down the smooth incline of the high ground they occupied picking up speed as they went and the ranks of infantry moved toward the readying spearmen of the enemy who had not moved, choosing to stand their ground rather than fight uphill. The skies momentarily darkened as the first hail of bolts and arrows crossed each other to rain death on their intended targets. The enemy still had not moved forward choosing to face the bolts on their central units although they had not remained inactive, the glow of blessings shone about the beast headed fighters of the enemy and he could see many of them howling and gnashing their teeth looking more imposing by the second. Behind him he could hear the priests chanting then suddenly columns of light reached from the skies above, the hand of the divine manifest and burning any being of evil in its path, several of the columns landed amidst the statue still mass of undead and he could see some of their bones blacken with the heat, though none were destroyed, their resistance holding. The chanting began again and the commanders attention was drawn to the field again.

Their blessings done he could see the enemy priests turn to the incoming infantry and the thunder of hooves boomed across the field as the cavalry charged at the quailing units in their path. The second wave of archer fire took to the air and was quickly followed by more columns of burning light caressing the still forms of the undead, this time some were burned to ash, their bodies halo’d by bright light, their bones slowly disintegrating. The heavy infantry of Dershid had now gained the centre of the field and the cavalry were mere moments from striking deep into the sacrificed unit then as if mirroring the bright banishments of his priests smaller beams of light could be seen erupting from the ranks of the infantry and where each struck a man fell, pole axed by whatever magic was being used against them, yet still the tally was still on their side He could see the fallen scattered amongst their front ranks from his crossbow fire and he knew some of the undead had been sent back to their unholy grave. As if in response to his brief thought he could hear the cranks of the crossbows finish turning and ready themselves for a second volley. More deadly shafts crossed the distance between the two armies as the glow of hostile magics again glittered in a beautiful but deadly show almost competing with each other in an effort to kill those it touched and then the cavalry, lances lowered crashed into the enemy, a tidal wave of murder engulfing and moving over the pitifully weak defensive line of the enemy troops, lances spent he could see many being abandoned and cavalry blades being drawn while the wild eyes and frothing mouths of the horses looked about ready with steel clad hoof to crush any nearby soldiers.

At last the enemy lines began to move forward to engage the heavy infantry that was bearing down upon it as if in concert the previously still forms of the bonefiends moved with unnatural rhythm towards the left flank of the infantry block followed by the howling beast headed warriors in their bright furs and feathers. If he could break his cavalry free from the broken and probably routed unit it had crushed then they could hit the infantry from the right of break through and engage the enemy archers and commanders. Next to him the commander heard gasps of shock from amongst the ranks of crossbowmen, his attention drawn from the melee below he looked up and for the first time in untold battles was momentarily stunned to see the air filled with forms, vast feathered cloaks billowing out around them giving them the ability to take to the air and swiftly swoop unhindered across the battlefield below to engage the lightly armed and armoured crossbowmen with their long sharp spears and most devastatingly the infantry commander, priests and himself. Death raining from above the commander had but moments to draw his blade as a feathered figure hurtled towards him spear poised to thrust, catching the spear low on his blade and leaning back into his saddle the spear point grazed his shoulder a turn of the wrist and the momentum of his body swung the blade back in an arcing cut which was swamped by the volumous cloak of his assailant and then was clear, noting a smeared line of red on the blade he knew he had struck true. Spurring his mount forward he spun to avoid the attack of another of the swooping killers, he could now see many of his crossbowmen fallen, pierced by the spears of the birdmen and one of the priests was transfixed entirely through his torso and pinned to the ground, the remaining bowmen either fighting for their lives or taking a more earthbound flight from the field. The infantry commander he could see was surrounded by three of the enemy trying to lunge in and fatally strike the foot soldier.

Bellowing a battle cry the commander dug his heels into the flanks of his horse causing it to surge forward and striking left and right he fought amidst chaos and blood. Feather cloaked figures were struck and falling from the sky their numbers dwindling but their damage done, the command hill of Dershid was devastated and the commander had no clue how the battle below was going, attempting to reach the infantry commander but finding his path blocked by yet more of the enemy warriors, gritting his teeth he prepared to engage. At first the noise had sounded like a hammer striking an anvil, a ringing, it was followed by a warmth and then the realisation that a spear point was protruding from the centre of his chest, piercing the steel plate that protected him, he could see the warriors in front of him, no longer approaching spears ready but looking onwards, eyes, sky grey, cold but respectful, the warmth was spreading up his body he saw the infantry commander breaking from the circle of enemies and taking heel, pursued and then, sliding sideways from his horse he had one last glimpse of the sun rising in the clear sky and then fading from brightness to twilight and finally to shadow…

Re: The Dark Oracle, AAR- Ongoing.
 

<font color="purple">Plaguetongue </font>
The old cemetery was silent in the burgeoning night and the marker stones were barely visible under the covering of foliage that had flowed into burial grounds in the years it had remained unkempt. Plaguetongue looked about, the revenant had a sense for what was needed and his dead gaze came to rest on a grave, long settled, that he knew would suit his purpose this eve. Removing a cracked and rune carved bone from the folds of his robe he began to sketch out a circle in the ground around the slight indentation that outlined the old burial. Completing his scribing of the circle Plaguetongue smiled, the dried and leathery muscles, which still clung to his moonlit skull creaking with the rare movement. Taking a large pouch from his belt the revenants desiccated hand reached in to produce a fine white dust, which carried the same luminescence as the glimpses of bone through the torn flesh of the arm; which he then sprinkled carefully into the outline of the ritual circle. Standing at the foot of the grave the robed horror issued forth fell words into the humid night, each syllable seeming to hang in the night air as though from a gallows, strangled and pained. The earth shuddered within the circle and the soil, which had previously lain still, churned as it gave up its gruesome contents. Finishing his chant Plaguetongue stopped briefly to gaze upon the corpse, which lay worm eaten on top of the dirt within the glowing circle. Rotting skin clung, moist and filthy to the putrescent remains, the eyeless gape of the skull seemingly screaming to the dark night and ragged and rotten clothes outlining withered and shrunken breasts. Without warning the eyes of the corpse opened, rotting orbs rolling in their sockets and then more movement as the cadaver twitched, pale rotten fingers clutching at its own body as the skull lolled and began to shriek and sob its pain to the night. Reaching forward Plaguetongue grasped the jaw of the corpse and viciously forced it to look at him, its arms flailing feebly at his iron grip.
“You were not called for strength at arms, my pretty.” The revenant spat the words.
Still the corpse moaned in agony. Grasping the decayed woman by the throat Plaguetongue straddled her torso his other hand, leathery and wicked began to pick the black and shrunk eyeball from its socket like a scab with his filthy torn fingernails. As if feeling the injury the woman struggled and screamed in pain but to no avail, her corpse not granted the killing strength of a risen zombie. Grunting in satisfaction, Plaguetongue looked briefly into the gaping black holes his work had created. Tipping a velvet pouch into his outstretched palm he looked as two dimly glowing purple orbs each pulsing with an inner light were revealed to the night. Taking the first between bony finger and rotten thumb the revenant carefully pushed the amethyst of death into one of the black eye sockets, its inner glow illuminating the ruined face of the long dead woman, quickly the second followed.
“I have given you the eyes of the night, my pretty can you Ss-eeeee?” The question was whispered as Plaguetongue got to his feet. At first there was no answer as the corpse raised its clawed and broken hand in front of its luminescent skull.
“I-I’m dead?” the questioning words croaked from the long disused vocal chords.
“Long dead, my pretty. The body your husband once longed for is now ugly and shrivelled in its rigor, the womb that birthed your children now barren and spent. You would lay still in atrophy had I not called you for my task.”
The corpse slowly looked up at the revenant, its visage long bereft of its ability to show emotion.
“I worked in life, I had hoped to rest in death. Such is my lot.” Spoke the corpse.
The revenant pointed to the mountains in the distance, the moon high above them outlining their grim crags and peaks.
“I seek dark knowledge from the land of Dershid a land given to the Obsidian Lord by right of blood and death.” The words were formal now, the ritual observed.
“By command of death and right of blood I see the land and taste its despair.” the words came unbidden from the woman in answer to the primeval rite. Plaguetongue reached into his pouch once more and retrieved the last precious amethyst.
“Will you pay my grave price for the dark knowledge I have seen” the woman’s hand slowly opened and Plaguetongue placed the gem into it.
“A Black Tower, filled with ancient death and kept secret by dark hearted conjurors and their Circle Master adepts, lays hidden amongst the high peaks.” The woman intoned.
Plaguetongue nodded, he could not have hoped for a greater discovery. Her reverie ended the woman began to sob again as Plaguetongue looked upon her before turning his back uncaringly to walk from the old graveyard he had found. Nopalxochitl, watched as the revenant strode into the darkness and she became aware again of the only living thing within her, the pain of death. Images of the black tower were fading but rising from the agony filled murk of her mind came other images, more painful than anything she could imagine. Two children, ran through a field of golden stalks, smiling at their mother, sweeping them into her arms she turned laughing and was met with the stern face of a sullen priest who clutched a forked stick which looked slick with some dark substance, soldiers behind him moved as he pointed at the young ones. Unable to face this image anymore Nopalxochitl screamed and tore at her glowing eyes, tearing them from their gorey sockets, where they fell to the ground along with her grave price. Struggling to her feet the corpse slowly made her way into the night, abandoning the cemetery along with its handful of death gems, one clawed hand touching the birthing scar visible on the dead flesh of her stomach, her eyes crying maggot tears for her long ago sacrificed children.